Christmas Days
by Lirenel
Summary: *Challenge 24: Day* Edmund dreams of a white Christmas, Susan receives gifts for twelve days from dogged suitors, Peter promises to be home, and Lucy has herself a merry little Christmas. Four Christmas one-shots, for four classic Christmas songs. Any war
1. White Christmas

**Title: **Christmas Days  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.  
**Note: **The answer to challenge 24: Day. In the midst of exams last year, while listening to some classic Christmas music, a plot bunny bit me. Bing Crosby was crooning White Christmas, and I knew I had to write a story about it (not a song fic, just based on the song). Picking out three more songs (most from the 40s, to be chronologically sound about it), I wrote a series for the Christmas season; well, I wrote three chapters and then Lucy's chapter just gave me a headache and I only finished it yesterday. Anyway, for each chapter I'll give you the song and the version that inspired me. I hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

White Christmas – _Bing Crosby_

* * *

The first snow in Narnia after the White Witch's defeat fell on Christmas Eve. Being forewarned by the far-seeing centaurs, the Narnians prepared themselves adequately – in stocking up in essentials, and in preparing themselves emotionally for dealing with their first non-enchanted snow. The four kings and queens of Narnia, in particular, threw themselves into these preparations, their smiles and laughing reassurances bolstering the courage of their subjects. Soon, the prospect of having a (non-enchanted) white Christmas was something to look forward to, not fear.

Edmund himself was all smiles during the days before Christmas, happily helping Peter hang pine boughs through the halls of Cair Paravel, baking cookies with Lucy and the Beavers, following Susan's directions on writing invitations without complaint. He conspired with Mr. Tumnus to find and wrap Lucy's Christmas gift, he found the perfect gifts for Susan and Peter. All the while, he gave plenty of reassurances to his people, that this icy Christmas was not to be feared but enjoyed. To everyone, including his siblings, he was just as excited about having (non-enchanted) snow for Christmas as the rest.

He did not tell them about his dreams. Dreams of last year's white Christmas. Snow lying heavy on the ground, glistening on the treetops; it wasn't beautiful, it was a suffocating terror. Because always, _always_, behind that snow, behind the pleasant ringing of silver sleigh-bells, was _her_, looming tall like a Giant over him as he huddled in the foot of her sleigh, gasping for breath as the swift, bitter wind stole it from him. _She _was there, always there, with the Dwarf and the stinging whip and the cruel words that hurt more than anything else she could do to him.

Edmund did not tell the others about his dreams, dreams that grew more and more intense as Christmas and the impending snow approached. No, he was determined not to let his nightly distress destroy his siblings' Christmas, destroy _his _Christmas. This was their first Christmas together as a family, a _real_ family, for such a very long time; and since that was his fault, Edmund refused ruin this Christmas as well. If his siblings knew about his nightmares he knew the light in their eyes would fade. Lucy would try and tamper her outgoing joy in sympathy; Susan would purse her lips and want to scale back the celebrations that she was so looking forward to, and had worked so hard to prepare. And Peter, Peter's face would go white, as it always did when he thought of the White Witch, or saw the scars that Edmund still carried from last Christmas. Edmund refused to let that happen.

So, instead, he tried to brush away the effects of his dreams. It was fairly easy to do in the light of day, with Lucy's smile banishing shadows, Susan's embraces to warm his heart, and Peter's laughter brightening the pale sun. Edmund truly enjoyed preparing for Christmas, enjoyed helping his subjects get ready for the expected snowfall. The joy of the days diminished his fear of the nights, no matter how dark they became. He sometimes even felt true excitement when he thought about the upcoming snow.

That excitement, however, did not last long; and on the morning of Christmas Eve, Edmund found himself in that place between waking and sleeping where the cold of his room in Cair Paravel mingled with his nightmare of biting ice and biting whips, and cruel, white laughter. Even when waking overtook dreaming, he could not shake the terror that lingered. As Edmund left the warmth of his bed, he stepped lightly on the cold floor, freezing his bare toes, and drew back the heavy curtains that covered his window. He shivered as he looked out over the city that lay beneath Cair Paravel, covered with a deep blanket of snow. The centaurs had been right – they would have snow for Christmas. So Edmund took a deep, frigid breath, forced the nightmare from his thoughts, and prepared the face the day.

If the weeks before Christmas had been filled with excitement, Christmas Eve was positively abuzz. Last minute preparations sent the entire Cair into a tizzy, while Susan was a whirl of energy that matched even Lucy. Through it all, Peter and Edmund decided to be smart and just do whatever their sisters told them. It paid off, as the Christmas party began in the last hours of daylight. Music played gaily, and the ballroom floor was crowded with dancers, including both queens. Peter preferred staying by the buffet table with a few of his knights, jealously guarding the cream puffs (not that any sane Narnian would dare try and take a cream puff from their High King).

Edmund lasted for as long as he could handle the joyful spirit that hung in the air. He danced with Lucy, stole a cream puff from Peter (which only solidified his reputation for bravery), and complimented Susan on a successful celebration. But then a faun struck up a ballad, reminiscing on Christmases past: before the Witch, lost Christmases during her reign, and, of course, last year's Christmas, which had been greeted with such utter relief and joy by all Narnians. Edmund left the celebration, before the grimace on his face could be noticed by anyone.

He did not have any particular destination in mind, so Edmund was unsurprised when he found himself in the northern garden. His feet sank into the snow, but he hardly noticed it; his leggings were, after all, warmer than the short trousers he had been wearing in the snow last year. Idly brushing the snow off of one of the benches, Edmund sat, ignoring the ice that seeped into his clothes. The young king scowled, angry with himself for running from the party, from the ballad. He had be so _determined_ not to let _her_ ruin this Christmas for him, and yet here he was; alone and cold, just like last Christmas.

Suddenly, his dismal thoughts were distracted when he heard a soft mewing. Frowning, Edmund stood, and followed his ears to toward the pitiful sound. It was coming from…there! Gently knocking the snow off of a holly bush, Edmund could just see two frightened, golden eyes, deep within the shadows of the plant. "Hello there, are you stuck?" Edmund asked the creature, likely a feline of some sort by the shape of its eyes and the sound of its voice. The animal just mewed helplessly, and so Edmund figured it was likely just a mute housecat. The poor creature had probably got caught in the prickly bush; from the weakness in its voice, it may have been stuck in the cold for a good long time.

Edmund grimaced as he looked at the thick holly plant; it was a rather large bush, and the sharp leaves were close together. But he couldn't just leave the cat there, alone and cold and frightened. Breathing in deeply, and wishing he had a pair of gloves and a thicker tunic, Edmund started pushing back the holly branches, wincing as the leaves cut into his hands and wrists.

The cat was far back, caught between the trunk and a piece of stone that jutted from the wall against which the holly leaned. Gritting his teeth, Edmund ducked his head so that his face was somewhat protected by his arms, and burrowed farther into the bush, all the while speaking soft words to the frightened animal. "It's alright, cat, I'll get you out of here, it's alright." The cat seemed to understand that this strange creature was here to help it, and so stopped struggling as much as it had been before; waiting for its rescue to come.

Leaves and branches cut at Edmund's arms and hands, but he ignored it as he reached the cat and pulled back the trunk as best he could. The cat scrambled free, and Edmund was about to back out; but then he saw the cat trying to get through the spined leaves, getting only sharp cuts for its efforts. Frowning, Edmund reached out again towards the cat. "Here, cat, let me help you. It's alright; I'll help you get out." The cat looked at him suspiciously. Apparently, though, he passed muster, and the cat moved carefully towards him. Gently wrapping his arms around the small feline, Edmund slowly backed out of the bush, branches scratching at his now exposed face.

By the time he fully emerged from the holly, his hands and face ached from all the scratches he had accumulated. But, as he fell back in the snow, the cat curled happily in his lap and Edmund realized he did not really mind the pain of the cuts. It was worth the pain to have the content feeling he had from seeing the cat freed from its prison, freed from the fear it had at being trapped and hurt. The cat rubbed its head against Edmund's chest, purring loudly, and Edmund felt the despair he had been feeling fade away. Yes, the memories were sometimes still painful, even as the scratches on his hands and face were painful; but the memories, the cuts, paled in comparison to the joy of freedom, the joy of _others'_ freedom and love, which they were celebrating this Christmas.

Edmund gently scratched the cat behind its ears. "Thanks," he whispered, despite knowing the cat wouldn't understand him. The cat bumped its head against his stomach, before jumping off his lap into the snow. Turning its head to look at Edmund, the cat seemed to mew out a farewell, before leaping gracefully through the snow drifts towards the garden wall. Edmund smiled and shook his head. "I guess I should be going too." Though, how he would explain his face to his siblings and subjects, he had no idea.

He did not really care at the moment, however. His heart lighter, Edmund stood, wanting nothing more than to go and be with his family and friends. Looking around him, the snow on the ground no longer seemed to be a bitter memory of the past, but a clean slate on which to write a new future – a future of joyful, white Christmases. So, with a new contentment in his soul, Edmund made his way back inside, to join those whose love were worth all the pain he had gone through. From now on, there would be no reason for him to fear Christmas; even if all his Christmases were white.

And from atop the garden wall, a cat watched the young Narnian king leave the desolate snow to join his family, a knowing, loving light glittering in his golden eyes.

* * *

More tomorrow, possibly.


	2. The Twelve Days of Christmas

The Twelve Days of Christmas – _Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters_

* * *

**1.**

Six years into the reign of the Four King and Queens of Narnia, Susan knew very well that an insipid suitor fawning over her and giving her ridiculous gifts was _not_ the worst thing in the world. No, the worst thing was having _more than one _insipid suitor fawning over her and _competing _in giving her ridiculous gifts. And nothing illustrated this fact more than this particular Christmas – technically, the days _after _Christmas, but she gave them a little leniency because they were all foreign suitors who were sending the gifts from rather far away. This, however, did not make the gifts any less ridiculous, unfortunately.

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "I don't get it."

Peter looked at her over his mug of hot chocolate – a gift from the Archenland ambassador to all the Narnian kings and queens, but one which Peter had hurriedly appropriated for himself. "What don't you get?"

"It's…a partridge. In a tree."

"It's a _red-legged _partridge. In a _pear_ tree," corrected Peter before sipping his chocolate.

Susan, who was sitting with them at the breakfast table, was just as confused by this gift from the Galman crown prince. However, she didn't wish to show it, and so instead watched with interest as Edmund tried to sneak up and steal one of the pears without the partridge noticing. It wasn't as if Narnia didn't have winter pear trees to burn – not literally, of course – but Edmund seemed to have taken affront at the fact that no one seemed to be able to get near these particular pears. Apparently the partridge was trained to guard the fruits from everyone except the intended recipient. Of course, Susan was not about to help Edmund in his endeavor; not after the incident with the porridge, the squirrel, and the feather-pillow.

"But why would he send a _red-legged _partridge in a _pear _tree?" Lucy was not about to let this go. "It doesn't make any sense!"

Peter shrugged. "I heard that, in Galma, partridges and pears are given as wedding gifts. Their, er, colors and shapes apparently make them ideal fertility symbols."

Though this went over Lucy's head, Susan's nearly choked on her tea. "What!" she exploded loudly, causing the partridge to begin chuck-chucka-chuffing which startled Edmund, who then began flailing. This aggravated the partridge, which chuck-chucka-chuffed louder and flew at Edmund, pecking mercilessly in protection of his beloved pear tree.

As Edmund fled from the violent partridge, Susan crossed her arms over her chest. "We are sending it back," she declared, and neither Lucy (who still didn't _quite _understand) nor Peter (who decided protecting his hot chocolate from his sisters was more important than saving his brother from overprotective partridges) thought it was wise to argue with her.

**2.**

The next day, a Terebinthian lord sent Susan a pair of turtle doves. They were actually quite a sweet pair, and Susan sent the lord a friendly – if only platonically cordial – thank-you note, even after Peter told her that turtle doves symbolized devoted love and monogamous marriages. This is mostly because Susan found it amusing that the doves kept sneaking drinks of Peter's hot chocolate. Peter did not find this amusing.

**3.**

On the third day Edmund forgave the crown prince of Galma for his attempted assassination by partridge when three plump chickens arrived – bearing some unpronounceable name that sounded like someone with a head-cold – and those chickens went straight to the dinner table.

**4.**

"Calling birds? They look like blackbirds to me."

"_Colly _birds, Ed. Colly birds _are _blackbirds. In the Seven Isles, blackbirds are presented to a lady to protect her, er, virtue."

"How, by calling really loud when a man comes near her?"

"_Colly,_ not _calling._"

"Peter, you are saying _the exact same word_."

"I am not! Col-_lee_, not call-_ingggggargh_, Susan that hurts!"

"Both of you be quiet. And see if you can do the same to those blasted calling birds!"

"Told you."

"Shut up."

**5.**

Five days after Christmas came five golden rings from Terebinthia. That is, five golden ring-necked pheasants. They also joined the turtle doves in stealing Peter's hot chocolate. As his siblings snickered, Peter glowered and contemplated a campaign against Terebinthia for theft of the royal chocolate. There had to be some law against it somewhere.

**6.**

By the sixth day, the cooks were about ready to marry Queen Susan off to the Galman prince. The chickens-of-the-unpronounceable-name had been delicious, and King Edmund still raved about their partridge sautéed in pear sauce. Now they had six Galman geese, renowned through the world for being as tasty as their eggs, which were themselves delicacies. Susan reminded the cooks that deliciousness of the poultry and eggs did not make up for the fact that, according to Peter, all three kinds of birds were considered fertility symbols. The cooks were justly chastised, and were happy to have an explanation as to why Queen Susan had not eaten those particular dishes.

**7.**

"I thought swans were nice!" complained Lucy as she sat in the branches of a tall Pine Tree that was kindly helping her Sovereigns hide from the most recent gift from Terebinthia.

"No, they are actually very territorial and aggressive. Apparently you can't judge mute swans by their Talking counterparts," replied Susan matter-of-factly from her own perch. "I don't think it helps that that one swan was separated from his mate in order to make it 'seven swans'. Surprising, since I had supposed the whole monogamous aspect is why they were sent in the first place."

Susan looked down as Peter spoke up from the branch below hers. "Actually, in Terebinthian mythology, one of their gods once turned into a swan to seduce a mortal woman. Ever since, swans have been a fertility symbol, and a gift of an odd number of swans a symbol of the suitor wanted to, er, complete their beloved. Back you!" The last was pointed at one of the swans who was trying to attack Peter's hanging foot.

Lucy shook her head. "Why do none of these gifts make any logical sense? Can't they just say: 'I think you are beautiful, will you marry me'?"

Susan sighed. "That would be too simple. Then I could just tell them 'no' and be done with it, instead of having to deal with all these _birds_. If I get another bird, I'm going to hurt someone."

"I'll help," added Peter as his foot narrowly escaped destruction.

Lucy got a thoughtful look on her face. "Peter?"

"Yes, Lu?"

"How do you know so much about the fertility symbols of various cultures?"

Peter saved himself from answering by turning bright red and being pulled out of the tree by an angry swan.

**8.**

The eighth day after Christmas found the four kings and queens of Narnia eating lunch together after a long morning of meetings. A slightly battered Peter was combining eating grilled swan with writing an angry letter to Susan's Terebinthian suitor. Edmund was enjoying the hot chocolate which was his reward for saving his brother from a herd of killer swans, and Lucy was trying to cajole Susan into giving her back the book on Terebinthian mythology which the older queen had confiscated that morning.

Then the valets brought in a large plate of seven different kinds of cheese, three different yogurts, and a glass of milk for each of them. The four stared at the selection. "Where did this all come from?" asked Edmund, who knew his foods and knew he had never seen _that_ kind of cheese before.

"The prince of Galma sent his eight best dairy artisans, along with their respective bovine beasts, to create culinary masterpieces as a gift for her majesty, Queen Susan."

Three heads turned to Susan, who was the translator of their group. "He sent some milkmaids and cows to make cheese and yogurt for us."

Lucy shrugged and put some cheese on her plate. "At least it isn't a bird."

**9.**

Apparently the Calormene lord had only been lax in his gift giving because he wanted to make an impression with his gift, which came nine days after Christmas. As they sat regally on their thrones, the kings and queens of Narnia awaited the presentation of this gift, which arrived in all the pomp that one expects from Calormen. The Calormene emissary puffed out his chest and announced: "Oh mighty lords and ladies of this fair land of Narnia! Our esteemed lord, Tarkhaan Malshid, offers his humble praise for your majestic reign. He begs the Queen Susan, who is lovelier than all the stars of the heaven, her hair like the collie birds…"

"Calling birds," muttered Edmund, who was silenced by a glare from Susan. She wasn't about to let _that_ argument get started again, particularly if she had to deal with this headache of an emissary. Who was _still _going on about her beauty - how long was this going to take?

"…as the noon-day sun, accepts his most humble gift. Tarkhaan Malshid hopes that this entertainment will bring such light to your glistening eyes that you will accept his adoring suit." At that, the ambassador clapped his hands thrice, the music began playing, the doors opened, and the 'entertainment' entered.

Susan stared. Lucy stared. Peter and Edmund's jaws dropped simultaneously.

And nine Calormene women wearing _far _too little clothing began dancing in ways that was _not_ appropriate to be seen by any respectable person.

The Narnians in the room erupted in furor as the men attempted to find their way out of the room with their eyes firmly shut against the display, while several of the women fainted. Next to Susan, Peter was pulling a stunned and motionless Edmund behind their thrones, which did not go smoothly as his own eyes were closed. The music and the din of the crowd mixed horribly, growing louder until Susan shouted in a voice heard above it all: "SILENCE!"

The music ceased, the dancers stopped, and Sir Peridan ran into a wall.

Susan walked down the dais and smiled at the dancing girls. "My ladies, it pains us to see that you are not provided with the warm clothing necessary for this harsh weather. Please step aside and our maids will dress you." The dancers looked absurdly grateful, and as they left Susan turned and glared at the emissary. "Sir, when your return to your lord, tell him that his suit is _not_ accepted, and that it is _not _acceptable to send half-naked women to dance provocatively in front of our person, our royal siblings, and our loyal subjects. However, we accept the gift in the spirit in which it was given, and these ladies will be provided for in all manner they require – they will _not_ be returning to Calormen, and we expect their families to either be provided for in their homes, or sent to Narnia for provision."

That was the last gift from Tarkhaan Malshid, though the dancing girls – who became respectable milkmaids trained by the Galmans – thought it the greatest gift of all when their families arrived to freedom in Narnia.

**10.**

Apparently another Calormene lord had received word that Malshid had sent nine dancing girls and wanted to do one better. So the day after the dancing girls were freed, ten dancing _men_ arrived. This time, Susan had her eyes closed while covering Lucy's eyes with her hands, so it was Peter and Edmund who threw out the Calormen emissaries and arranged for the poor slaves to find employment in Narnia. Thankfully they were as skilled in taming horses as they were in performing fertility dances.

**11.**

"Make it stoooop!" demanded Lucy, her hands to her ears. Susan, though, only heard a muffled sound as she also had her ears covered. Not that much could have been heard anyway over the noise.

Edmund dashed into the room, sword drawn. "Who's dying? Are we under attack?"

Peter walked into the room behind his brother and swatted the younger king's head before covering his own ears. "No, they're called bag-pipes."

"And there are _eleven _of them," lamented Lucy.

"And they are _three rooms over from us_," moaned Susan.

And the Terebinthian pipers played on.

**12.**

On the ninth hour of the twelfth day after Christmas, the Galman drummers arrived. On the tenth hour of the twelfth day after Christmas, the Galman drummers got into an argument with the Terebinthian pipers. On the eleventh hour of the twelfth day after Christmas, the Galman drummers and the Terebinthian pipers decided to solve this argument by competing to see who could play the loudest. On the eleventh and a half hour of the twelfth day after Christmas, the entirety of Cair Paravel – except for the Galman drummers and the Terebinthian pipers – vacated the premises.

On the twelfth hour of the twelfth day after Christmas, Narnians of all shapes and sizes gathered in the southern wood. Freed from foreign musicians, dwarfs tapped a rhythm on their little hand-drums and fauns began trilling their pan-pipes. Naiads and Dryads joined in and taught the new horse-tamers and milkmaids how to dance like Narnians, while other Narnians watched and munched happily on exotic Galman cheeses. The only swans were proper Talking Swans who were quite pleasant to be around. The cooks served eggnog made from goose eggs, and smoked pheasant was in good supply. Peter and Edmund agreed to just call _those_ birds 'blackbirds'. All poultry involved in the impromptu party had pronounceable names. The turtle doves shared a mug of hot chocolate. And in all the pear trees in the wood, there was not a single partridge.

Instead, the Narnians gathered and cheered their beloved Sovereigns, declaring that they would not give up their queens to any insipid suitor giving them ridiculous gifts. And as the Narnians declared their undying loyalty to their kings and queens, Susan smiled. This was what made dealing with all those suitors, all the burdens of state, bearable: the love and loyalty of her subjects. Aslan had given her the burden of the crown, yes, but because of that burden, she had her Narnians, her family surrounding her this Twelfth Day.

It was the greatest gift Susan's True Love could have given her this Christmas.


	3. I'll Be Home For Christmas

I'll Be Home For Christmas** – **_Bing Crosby_

* * *

Stepping silently through one of the myriad side doors of Cair Paravel, Peter hastily pulled off his mud-encrusted boots, all the while trying to remain calm and quiet, despite his growing excitement at being home. Removing his heavy, snow-laden cloak and laying it to the side, Peter grinned. Even this small, out-of-the way mudroom was decorated with boughs of pine and mistletoe, a theme that dominated the marble halls through which he walked.

It was late on Christmas Eve, so those halls were also empty of subjects and sovereigns alike, save for the High King as he crept softly through them, steps muffled by woolen stockings that had been an early Christmas gift from Mrs. Beaver. Peter tried not to hurry – it would not do to slip and crack his head open on Christmas Eve. That was not exactly the type of surprise he wanted to give his family.

Oh, how he had missed them! Seven months of campaigning in the bitter north against the Giants was certainly hard physically; even harder was being away from his siblings, especially after hearing about that near call with Susan's Calormene suitor – Razabash? Radish-mash? – and Lucy and Edmund fighting near Anvard. How many letters had they sent, assuring Peter they were alright? If the campaign against the Giants wasn't so necessary for the security and safety of Narnia, Peter would have packed up then and there, and headed home to his family. He had been tempted even without hearing of the problems besieging his siblings. The nights had dragged on interminably as he dreamt of just this – being home – while the days were spent in unending battle, with time only for swift prayers that he would survive. He wanted to go home; but he knew, even as temptation beset him, that he would never abandon the battle to protect his family and his people, even for the comforts of home.

He was home now, though, and he knew, with all the intuition of an older brother who was also a parent to his siblings, that all three of the younger sovereigns would be huddled in Lucy's room; ostensibly, Edmund and Susan would be there to comfort Lucy at Peter's absence on Christmas. Peter grinned. He had told them he would be _home_ for Christmas, and by golly he was, despite every Giant in the north trying to lengthen the campaign and keep him there.

Reaching Lucy's room, Peter saw that the door was cracked open, and he heard voices resonating from within. Peeking around the door, he smiled to see Susan half lying on the settee, arms and chin resting gently on Edmund's dark head as he sat below with his back to her, Lucy curled up at his side. Peter couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but Edmund seemed to be trying to cheer the girls up. They were turned away from him, so Peter couldn't see their faces, but he heard Susan sigh gloomily and he knew he couldn't stay hidden any longer.

He opened the door carefully, so that it wouldn't squeak, and stepped softly in the room. Using all his skills at stealth – which were quite considerable if he did say so himself – Peter crept closer to the settee, dropping behind it and crawling to the left. Reaching a thin hand around, he softly tickled Lucy's bare feet, which were tucked behind her. He grinned as she shrieked in Edmund's ear and practically jumped into the Just King's lap. "You alright, Lu?" asked Edmund in concern.

"Someone was tickling my…" Lucy turned her gaze towards the end of the settee. Her eyes widened as she saw a blond head peek out.

"Miss me, Lu?"

This time, the shriek was one of joy, and Peter quickly found himself bowled over with an armful of little sister. He grinned as the smell of pine reached his nose - Lucy had been out dancing with the Dryads again. Peter relished that smell, the scent of joy and Christmas and peace. He only had a few moments to embrace his littlest sister before another little sister and a little brother added to the pile, with their own shouts of surprise and delight. There was Susan, hands perpetually cold as always, though Peter could not bring himself to care, even as they brushed his neck, because there were tears of happiness in Susan's eyes. And there was Edmund, trying to reach through his sisters to get to his older brother, his usual projection of dignity cast aside, replaced by a ridiculous grin and a loud whoop that would have brought in the guards had Peter not already warned them. All four siblings were laughing and crying and hugging, and Peter thought his heart would burst for all the joy. "I knew you would be home, I knew it!" shouted Lucy, and Peter didn't care that it made his ears ring, because it was true and because Susan was crying and Edmund was grinning and he was _home_.

After a few minutes, the excitement of his surprise return settled into a quiet contentment. Soon it was Peter with his back against the settee, Susan on his left and Edmund on his right, and Lucy on his lap; twenty-two years old though she was, she would always be his baby sister. The fire in the fireplace glowed, matching the love that the four siblings shared, now in silent companionship. They were kings and queens, but they were family first and so it didn't matter to them that they were falling asleep while sitting on a floor instead of in their lavish beds. What mattered was that they loved each other and that they were all home for Christmas.

00000

The fire still glimmered in his mind's eye and he still felt the weight of his siblings' embraces when he woke on Christmas morning, his breath misting in the frigid air. Peter sighed as he forced himself to leave the comfort and warmth of his bedroll, and quickly pulled on his clothes. It was still dark outside the tent, so he knew he had time to break up the ice in the pitcher and splash some of the freezing water on his face to help wake him up after that bittersweet dream.

His page, a young faun named Metus, hurried in, a brittle smile on his face. "Merry Christmas, your majesty," he said, with a hint of misery creeping through.

Peter knew the misery matched that in his heart, but he forced himself to smile through the gloom of such a day far from home and family. "Merry Christmas, Metus. How goes things?"

Metus began helping him with his armor, as he had nearly every day for the past four months. The metal felt heavier than usual, perhaps matching Peter's mood. "Scouts say the Giants are mustering to the west of us."

"Right where we want them to be." Peter nodded approvingly as Metus tightened the swordbelt around his waist. "Aslan willing, the battle with be short and successful."

"Aslan willing," The faun agreed heartily, handing Peter his shield before exiting the tent in order to go arm himself for the coming battle.

Peter sighed and looked back at his empty tent. What he would give to be home right now! But the red lion emblazoned on his shield reminded him always that sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Sometimes someone had to be far from home on Christmas: fighting and bleeding and killing and dying, so that others could have a warm fire, and their family surrounding them on a bright Christmas morning. And because he is king, because he is a soldier, that someone would be him this day.

Straightening his back, Peter turned and left his tent, prepared as ever to face the bleak, cold day, the murderous Giants, and perhaps even his own death. Because he was a soldier, and that is duty. And because it is his duty, he wouldn't be going home until his family, and all the families in Narnia, were safe. He wanted to be home for Christmas.

But this year, it would only be in his dreams.

* * *

.

In honor of those soldiers who won't be home for Christmas.


	4. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

AN: This is actually the second version of this chapter because the first one I wrote just annoyed me. Hopefully this one is better.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas –_ Judy Garland_

* * *

Lucy sighed, stamping her feet to keep warm. The ration line seemed longer than usual, filled with mothers hoping for a chance to finagle a little extra meat or sugar in this week before Christmas. With Edmund and Eustace stuck helping Uncle Harold fix a leak in the roof – that is, Edmund fixing the roof with Eustace awkwardly attempting to help – and with Aunt Alberta out visiting friends, Lucy was on her own to gather the family's weekly rations.

Despite the cold and backstrain from standing still so long, for Lucy the worst part of waiting in line was the time to think. With the grey, cold weather and the melancholy atmosphere from a queue of weary, worried women, Lucy's thoughts could not help but turn melancholy. Christmas in war-time held its own grief, whether in England or in Narnia. Lucy sighed. _At least in Narnia we were rarely apart at Christmas. _In fact, if Lucy remembered correctly, the family had only been apart their first and last Christmas in that wonderful land.

Narnian Christmases had seemed more _real_, somehow. Though there were a few exceptions, war usually ceased for the holiday. Families gathered together, thanking Aslan for their blessings and exchanging gifts, with the expectation of a visit from Father Christmas always exciting even adults. And, as the sun rose on Christmas Day, the Birds would sing out and all the Narnian who could would ring small bells outside in the crisp air, celebrating the peace Aslan had granted them that year.

Christmas had been a time for family and friends. The kings and queens would spend the morning privately, without the servants who were spending Christmas with their own families. The four would gather in Lucy's room to open gifts, and then Peter would throw off the mantle of High king and make cinnamon-toast and omelets for breakfast. In the afternoon the four sovereigns would visit with their friends, many of whom would be staying in the wings of Cair Paravel, bringing them presents and warm embraces. Mrs. Beaver would insist they stay in the Beavers' quarters for an hour of hot cocoa. The knights' young children would clamor for the candy Edmund always brought especially for them. And Mr. Tumnus could always be cajoled to return with the kings and queens to play a jolly tune on his pipes in front of a warm fire.

.

Lucy blinked back tears as she reached the store counter and presented her ration coupons. Numbly retrieving the groceries, she wandered the streets back to Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta's house. Lucy had missed her friends the first Christmas after returning from Narnia, but she kept hope that Aslan would return her to her land, she just had to keep faith. The Christmas after their return to Narnia, where they had found centuries had passed and all their friends were gone, had certainly been harder, but at least all four Pevensie children had been together. Peter had made breakfast, Susan had saved enough ration cards for hot cocoa, Edmund had used his connections to get a few pieces of sugar-candy for the neighborhood kids, and Lucy had painstakingly carved a simple hand-pipe to play by the fire. But now…

"Lu?" She looked up at Edmund's worried face and realized that she had made it back to the front of the house without realizing it. Her attempt at hiding her upset from her brother was completely unsuccessful and, before Lucy knew it, the groceries were out of her arms and shoved at a slightly confused Eustace with a distractedly-polite request to take them inside. Edmund gently took her arm and led her to the relative privacy of the large holly bush in the backyard. "What's wrong, Lu?"

Lucy knew that, of anyone, Edmund would understand what she was feeling – he probably felt the same way. "Oh, Edmund, I just…miss Narnia. I miss the Beavers, and Mr. Tumnus, and Caspian, and Reepicheep. I miss…I miss Peter and Susan. At least last year we four were together for Christmas." This year, though, Susan, and their parents, were still stuck in America, and Peter was staying the holiday with the Professor, who had come down with a light case of pneumonia and could not be left alone. "And…oh, I know Aslan said he was in this world, but we still don't know where and _I miss him_."

Edmund pulled her into a hug and let her cry against his shoulder. "I know, Lu, I know." They stood there for a long moment, Lucy softly crying and trying to draw comfort from her brother's presence.

"Um, can I help?" The two Pevensies looked up as Eustace stood nervously to the side, obviously wanting to help but also incredibly uncomfortable being near a crying girl. Narnia and Aslan had changed Eustace from the annoying brat he had been, but he _was_ still a ten-year old boy.

Lucy, though warmed by his concern, was still too upset to answer and just buried her face against Edmund's chest. Edmund answered, wearily. "Thanks, Eustace, but it's not really something you can fix." Or understand, was the unspoken continuance – Eustace would get to return to Narnia.

To his credit, Eustace nodded and let them be. But Edmund's unspoken words had lit an idea in the younger boy's mind that would bear fruit five days later, on Christmas Eve.

00000

Christmas was not a big celebration in the Scrubb household – Eustace usually just received presents from his parents on Christmas morning, without any such nonsense as Father Christmas or trees or stockings or anything fun. The lack of preparation or decoration increased the melancholy feel in Lucy and Edmund, particularly as Christmas Eve dawned. Eustace, however, was suspiciously excited, enough so that even Lucy noticed, distracted by her dreary mood though she was.

Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta were going to be at some boring society Christmas party until late that afternoon, so the three children were left to their own devices. Normally this would include some discussion about Narnia, but neither Lucy nor Edmund felt up to talking about Narnian Christmases. Instead, they all just sat on the floor of the living room next to the fire and played a game of cards.

Edmund was winning handily when a strong knock on the door interrupted the game. Lucy thought that Eustace seemed overly eager to be the one to answer the door, but she idly put it down to the fact that he was losing badly. But she _very_ much noticed when he returned with a grin that threatened to split his face in two. "So, you remember you told me a few weeks ago about how your Professor Kirke went to Narnia, when he was a boy, with his friend?"

"Yes," answered Lucy cautiously.

"Well," continued Eustace, "I spent some time looking up the friend, Polly, and I actually found out where she's living."

That intrigued Lucy. They had yet to meet the woman who had been one of the first in Narnia. "Is that who was at the door?"

Eustace gave her an annoyed look. "Let me finish!" Lucy shrugged and gestured for him to continue, hoping he wasn't keeping the poor woman waiting. "I gave her a call four days ago, we came to an agreement, and then I begged pleaded with Mum and Dad, and they agreed to house our special guest for the next few days." If it was possible, Eustace's grin widened. "And he just arrived."

Lucy and Edmund, who were expecting to be introduced to the Lady Polly, both started at that. "_He_?" exclaimed Lucy, her eyes widening as a tall, familiar figure stepped into the room.

.

Peter smiled. "Merry Christmas, you two."

There was a moment of silence, followed by Lucy and Edmund simultaneously launching themselves at their older brother. Then, after getting hugs and exclamations out of the way, the three Pevensies turned to Eustace. Lucy's eyes glistened, and she threw her arms around the younger boy. "Thank you, Eustace! This is the best Christmas gift ever!"

Eustace turned beet red. "I just talked with Miss Plummer and she agreed to stay with Professor Kirke so Peter could visit."

With a grin, Peter shook his head. "Oh, was she mad when she arrived. She yelled at the Professor for not calling or writing in seven years, for not telling her others went to Narnia, and for keeping me away from you for Christmas. Then she gave me a tin of cookies and told me to get to the train station. Quite a lady, I look forward to speaking with her more – but I was not about to pass up the opportunity to visit you!"

Soon, all four were sitting by the fireplace, laughing and talking and even singing. Aunt Albert and Uncle Harold came home, and they were even civil during supper and gave them permission to stay up in the living room into the night, as long as they did not talk too loud. Soon the hour approached midnight and the four children were still fondly discussing Narnia, and the Christmases that the older three had shared there. "I wish I could have been in Narnia for Christmas," lamented Eustace as the fire was growing dim.

Lucy paused. "Maybe you will," she said softly, remembering that Eustace would have at least one more chance to return to Narnia.

Eustace shook his head. "But it won't be the same. You had all those years there, and all your friends. I don't even know if Caspian and Drinian and the others will even still be alive when I go back, let alone if I can spend Christmas with them." His words brought back the melancholy of earlier – thoughts of friends long gone, of friends who may be having their last Christmas even as they spoke.

It was Peter who broke the threat of despair. "We _will_ all be together to celebrate Christmas someday. _All _of us, everyone who has gone on, everyone who you may meet in the future. I _promise _you that."

His face as he said this was stern, but in the firelight Peter seemed to glow with a fierce assurance that what he said was fact, not a dream. Lucy felt a chill go up her spine. "What do you mean, Peter?" she whispered. Edmund and Eustace looked at the eldest Pevensie, also tense with anticipation.

"In Aslan's Country," he answered simply.

Lucy looked at him in despair "But we don't know how to _get _there from this world! We don't even know where _Aslan _is."

Peter's smile was warm, his eyes twinkled with a hidden secret. "Yes, we do."

There was silence, then the other three erupted into the loudest uproar they could without waking the sleeping Alberta and Harold. "What! Where, _who_?"

Peter laughed and kissed Lucy on the top of her head. "I'll tell you tomorrow." At the outraged whispers that the answer incurred, Peter shook his head. "None of that. Early tomorrow, we'll go out and I'll show you. But for now, we need to go to bed."

There was severe protest at this, but no one, not even Eustace, was willing to argue long with the High King. Still, Lucy tried once more to get a clear answer as Peter tucked her into bed. Again, Peter shook his head. "It's not something that can simply be told. It has to be experienced. I wouldn't have even mentioned it until tomorrow, but I thought you could use some hope." He smoothed the blankets and took her hand. "Lu, you've been strong for this long. You've muddled through a lot, particularly recently from what Eustace told me. It's just a little longer. Trust me."

Lucy nodded – though still anxious and disappointed, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could trust Peter, especially with something like this. Peter smiled and gave the top of her head another kiss. Before he left the room, Lucy stopped him with a question, her eyes fixed on the painting at the foot of her bed. "Do you promise we'll be together for Christmas again?"

The smile could be heard in his voice. "I promise."

.

The next morning, Peter took them out into the cold, then into a building filled with people. There they found Aslan, and there Lucy wept in joy, and there they all had the merriest little Christmas until that day they would celebrate the Great Christmas, with all their closest friends and family…in Aslan's Country.

* * *

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Thanks for reading and Merry Christmas!


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